


Out in the Desert

by isuilde



Category: Free!
Genre: Arabian AU, Fluff, M/M, iwatobi white day, nothing but fluff i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto’s eyes are dancing. “Sorry, I thought you’d be cold. You know, considering you’re wearing a robe that shows pretty much all of your torso.” </p><p>Rin snorts. “Haven’t you ever heard about how hot-blooded the royal family is?” </p><p>“I thought that was a reference to your temper.” </p><p>“I should have you punished for that cheek. Death sentence, for making fun of the Crown Prince.” Rin executes a slashing gesture with his hand. “Or no, I still like your face. Congratulations, life in prison.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out in the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ever sweet [Alata-chan](http://sharspar.tumblr.com/), for [Iwatobi White Day](http://iwatobiwhiteday.dreamwidth.org/). I'm sorry in advance because I have no confidence at all in writing Arabian AU, mainly because my English vocabulary never extended that way, so I could only give you this. I hope you still enjoyed it nonetheless.

The three of them stop on the feet of the Southern Karst tonight. There are even small springs made of rainwater seeping into the spaces between rocks, just good enough for caravans and travelers who would like to rest for a night before continuing their journey. Haruka doesn’t waste any time in picking one of the bigger seeps to soak in despite the chilly night breeze, which sends Makoto fretting over the possibility of their childhood friend –slash-guide now catching a cold. 

Rin manages to set up their tent by himself for the first time. He’s immensely proud of it, at least for the ten minutes where it stands firm before collapsing entirely. And then he spends another fifteen minutes staring at the heap of wood-cloth-fabrics-ropes in absolute contempt, until Makoto shows up and tugs him towards the small cave they’d stumbled upon on the way there. 

“This is good enough for tonight,” Makoto says, stacking woods on the front of the cave’s entrance. He’s shed the traveling robes he was wearing earlier, leaving him in white harem pants. “We’ll be protected from the wind, and it’s safer than pitching up tents.” 

“Uh-huh,” Rin replies, still miffed at his latest failure, but somewhat distracted by the display of muscles flexing as Makoto works up a fire. He blinks when the warm red tongues finally lights up the cave, watches the hues play on Makoto’s skin, and suddenly remembers the sunset from Gou’s window for no reason. 

 He rocks forward on his heels and reaches out to muss Makoto’s hair. Makoto turns, looks up at him, and smiles. Rin dips his head and catches Makoto’s lips with his teeth, relishing the sharp sigh Makoto makes when the kiss deepens. 

He doesn’t know how long they've been locked in a kiss, isn’t even sure when he’s dropped down on his knees, curling into Makoto’s arms. But some time after he’s started absently tracing the contour of Makoto’s shoulder, the taller man makes a startled noise, and gently releases Rin. 

Rin thinks of chasing Makoto’s mouth because it’s just there, but then he hears the sounds of a pencil scratching parchments, and groans. Makoto just laughs. 

Haruka looks up from his sketch, eyes calculating. “No, Rin, don’t slouch yet, I’m not done getting your posture down.” 

That’s actually the closest Haruka gets to whining about his unfinished sketches. Rin sends a half-hearted glare at him. “When did you even get here?” 

“Some time before Makoto’s hand slipped under your tunic.” Haruka looks back at his sketch, frowning now. “I sketched your shoulder from the wrong angle.” He pauses, then sneezes. 

“Aaah,” Makoto says, already frowning, and Rin lets him rise to his feet and get a towel for Haruka. “See, what did I tell you about getting into the seep when it’s almost dark, Haru, geez.” 

They have rabbit soup for dinner—this one courtesy to Rin, because he hunted the rabbits, and Haruka, because he’s the only one who knows exactly how to cook, even though he never stops lamenting the lack of mackerel in the market this year until Rin promises him to look into the issue when they get back in the Capital. 

The night is clear, if a bit chilly, so they eat outside, keeping close to the fire on the cave entrance. Haruka and Makoto plan out their next route—there are still so many things Rin needs to see, so many things they need to show Rin, and for the first time in his life, Rin doesn’t mind that the path where his life is going to go for the next three months is literally being mapped out by someone else. 

“We can pass the Eastern Hoodoo if we drop by and resupply in Dhor,” Makoto says, turning to Rin. “You okay with that, Rin?” 

“We’ll be five days late when we get to the Capital though.” Haruka adds. 

Rin shrugs, because honestly, he couldn’t care less about the Capital now. Not when he’s damn sure Gou is handling everything twice as efficient as he would have, with the help of the advisers and Nagisa’s family. “I don’t mind.” 

This is his first journey out of the capital after all. He’d needed to know his country better, needed to see with his own eyes how his people live and thrive, needed to give himself some sort of mental preparation, before he could take over the throne and be a King worthy of his father’s lineage. 

He starts out of his thoughts when a blanket falls on his shoulders, giving extra warmth that probably isn’t needed, considering the way Makoto presses against his side. 

“Your nose is red,” Makoto tells him. Rin elbows him on the side good-naturedly. From the corner of his eyes, he catches Haruka pulling out a parchment and a pencil, again, presumably to start sketching him and Makoto. Why the dark-haired boy seems to love sketching his two childhood friends draped over each other is something Rin never understands. He thinks he probably shouldn’t ask, either. 

“Stop crowding on me, Makoto, we’re already so close to the fire, it’s hot under here.” 

Makoto’s eyes are dancing. “Sorry, I thought you’d be cold. You know, considering you’re wearing a robe that shows pretty much all of your torso.” 

Rin snorts. “Haven’t you ever heard about how hot-blooded the royal family is?” 

“I thought that was a reference to your temper.” 

“I should have you punished for that cheek. Death sentence, for making fun of the Crown Prince.” Rin executes a slashing gesture with his hand. “Or no, I still like your face. Congratulations, life in prison.” 

“That’s some other Crown Prince, then. My country’s Crown Pince doesn’t even have the heart to reject—“ Makoto ducks his head down, pressing a chaste kiss against Rin’s lips. “A kiss.”

Rin fights the heat climbing up his face. “Sexual harassment.” 

“How would you punish me this time?” Makoto chuckles. 

“I told you, life in prison. By which I meant my bed.” Rin shrugs off the blanket, but hastily yanks them back up when Haruka makes a loud disapproving noise. “Dammit, fine, Haru, okay!” 

“You’re slouching.” Haruka calls back. “Makoto, stop rocking back and forth.” 

“Okay,” Makoto replies, sounding happy enough to comply with Haruka’s demands, and Rin wonders how Makoto could actually deal with both him and Haruka for years. It’s probably why Makoto enjoys skinning the games Rin hunted—he probably vents all his anger there. 

They stay outside for a long time, talking about nothing and everything, and at some point Haruka finishes his sketches and presses against Rin’s other side. Huddling together, the three gaze up at the sky, pointing stars and legends behind them, sharing things that no one else ever known, and Rin thinks of how small his country is—a tiny speck in the universe, really—and how terrifying his dream is, because even though his country is tiny, it holds the lives of people like Makoto and Haruka and Rei and Nagisa back iin the capital, people like Mikoshiba and Nitori and Sousuke and countless others who are never less important, and Rin thinks, _Dad, how could I be better than you_? 

It’s Haruka who falls asleep first, head resting on Rin’s shoulder, his breath a constant white puff in the chilly night air. Makoto’s has an arm around Rin’s hip, pressing closer as the fire slowly dies down. And then something flashes in the sky, streaks down in a white line so fast Rin forgets to breathe at first. 

“A falling star,” Makoto says excitedly, like they’re nine years old all over again, sprawling on the palace roof waiting for the meteor shower. 

“Make a wish,” Rin says, because he’sa romantic who believes in this shitty stuff, even if at the very second he can’t think of a thing to wish upon the star, except _god, my country_ , and _Makoto, how are you even real_. 

But he tells himself it’s the feelings that counts, and closes his eyes anyway, doesn’t try to translate these feelings into words, doesn’t try to pick up what he wish from the jumbled thoughts that is the inside of his head. He thinks of his country, of his family, of Haruka and all his antics, of Makoto, warm and happy and steady against him. 

Makoto turns at him, tilts his head a little, and asks with a smile, “What did you wish for, Rin?” 

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” Rin smirks, but Makoto laughs and kisses it away. Rin kisses back, keeping in mind not to jostle Haruka from his shoulder, traces the lines of Makoto’s lower lip with the tip of his tongue, and inhales Makoto’s chuckle. 

He thinks, maybe, there’s no need for another falling star.

**\-----o0o-----**


End file.
